MX Blind Imagination
by viral2rival
Summary: Felix Dawkin's adventures over a few months period. This is what he does whenever he isn't helping Sarah out of a jam.
1. Chapter 1

MX Blind Imagination

MX1 – Way too Gay

Felix entered the back alley where he lived. He was moderately drunk, or salon tipsy, as he called this stage of intoxication. It was raining and the glow of the street lights reflected on the wet pavement of the alley. In his slight drunkenness, he paused to look at the graffiti on the walls.

Someone had commissioned a painting. The client had only requested that it be "urban" in style. At first Felix had thought this to be a somewhat racist reference to a painting inspired by African-Canadian contemporary culture, but since the client was white, middle aged and probably had no idea that the word urban could be used in that way, he had more than likely just meant a lot of concrete and windows.

But Felix was stuck on the more incorrect urban theme. He wanted something with graffiti. Problem was, the only graffiti he had access to was in alleys like the one where he lived. Although it was still skilfully produced, it was more of a happy, colourful mural type, lacking the darkness and anger associated with hip hop inspired graffiti.

Felix snapped out of his musings and walked up to his door, unlocking it. He shut it behind him and walked up the stairs, glad to be out of the rain (he was only wearing a light jacket, and his hair, who he had let grow medium length, was sticking to the side of his face). Well upstairs he unlocked the padlock to his loft and slid the door open.

The loft lay in semi darkness. He left a couple of small lights on so he could more easily see in case someone was hiding inside his living space, waiting to ambush him. Sarah knew of this habit and thought it was stupid paranoid, her words, and that, yeah, he had committed crimes as a youth, but not the kind where someone would hide in a loft for hours, then surprise you and murder you.

But Sarah was wrong. She just didn't understand who Felix really was. He had committed all of those crimes and still did, on a regular basis. Art just didn't pay rent these days, or allowed him to stay operational (which was another word for sane, to Felix). Sarah, who occasionally would have a chat with him over a bottle of Shivas Regal, had obviously never done the math.

As much as Sarah constantly got in trouble, this was a secret he wanted to protect even her from. She wouldn't understand it. It was senseless. There were probably other things he could do, but nothing that brought him that much excitement.

And that left him with the problem of the rest of the night. Excitement, his main form of entertainment. He hated this part of the night. Coming home from a party where he had pretended to be social, had some free beers, offered other people some free advice, mainly to stay popular so that if anyone put him under surveillance, it would look like he had a normal life.

Parties were never exciting, it was a definite chore. Stay in touch. Maintain your network of losers and nobodies. Since nobody knew who Felix was and what he did, he didn't have any actual real friends, only mannequins he had placed around himself to look like friends. For this reason, he always felt lonely.

Immediately after coming inside he went up to the record player and put on a record. Bon Jovi. The boredom would always become overbearing just as he got home. A good record took the edge off and sometimes inspired him to create something new.

As he listened to the music, he glanced around at the paintings that were placed around the room. If he was going to get the right graffiti for his new painting, he would need to go into the ghetto, but that would be too dangerous. Felix loved art, no doubt, but it was just a cover to clean up his money. He wasn't willing to die for the art, or the concept of his art, especially not for an individually commissioned painting.

Yes, his art was risky. It was overtly homoerotic, a niche he had capitalized on. But since he lived in the largest city in Canada, he wasn't worried about being targeted for the art itself. Besides, a painting is just a painting. Other than his clients, nobody knew it was his art, should they see him on the street.

As the "A side" or the record finished, he was struck by an idea. Yeah he wasn't willing to be killed for art, but he was willing to die in search of excitement. Perhaps going to the ghetto in search of inspiration for his next painting was a good idea. Sure. He was white (part Jewish, according to a DNA test he had performed), and he would almost certainly get killed, or robbed and killed, or raped and robbed and killed, but it sure beat sitting at home alone listening to old records.

Not having taken off his jacket, he turned the record player off and walked to the door and opened it. On second thought, since he was going to the ghetto, he probably shouldn't bring his wallet, so he took it out and put it on a table. He didn't want to have anything with his address on it should he actually be robbed. The phone, too, would have to stay, with all its classified information on it. Yeah he could tell the poor unsuspecting would be mugger that he didn't want the phone, that if he tried to call anyone on the contact list (people with names such as "Eros Handler A3") the phone would be tracked and people in suits would come after him. But why be mean? Just leave it at home.

Now all he had left in his pockets were his keys and his lighter, both of which he needed. He thought for a moment more and took out some money from his wallet, sticking it in his back pocket. $200 should be enough for the mugger to leave him alive.

As the bus approached the ghetto, Felix breathing got deeper and his heart sped up. He was used to danger, but this was just stupid. He had read in the papers what happened to people who accidentally wandered into this area. Was it really worth it just to see some graffiti?

He got off at a random stop and started walking toward a dark area that seemed abandoned. Nobody else had gotten off the bus at this stop, which was good. So far he was safe. He entered the area and as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he realized he had struck gold.

It was an old business area made up of a few lots and buildings which all lay in ruin. The whole area was wallpapered in graffiti, just the kind he had imagined. There were words he couldn't read, pictures of masked men with assault weapons, tags of individuals or individual artists, as well as logos that Felix knew to be gang markings.

It was the gang markings that scared him. He didn't want to stumble upon a bunch of youth in the dark with things to prove to each other. But the fear heightened the experience and helped inspire Felix. He already had begun forming an idea of the feel he wanted for his painting. He kind of wished he had brought his sketch book, but that would have been way too gay for this area. Instead he would just have to remember the feeling of it all. The darkness, the implicit danger, the anger behind the gang markings and the sadness of the commemorating murals for murdered homies. He was soaking it all in.

Now that he had gotten the inspiration, he thought he should leave, having successfully penetrated the ghetto, without being killed. But maybe just a few more moments would bring one last inspiration. He took a few deep breaths of the cold night air. It worked . He was dizzy with the beauty of the ruins of a once thriving business community. In his head he heard his favourite Bon Jovi song as a sound track for this movie he was in. He completely forgot that he was in danger.

Then he heard footsteps on gravel. What should he do? There were definitely two sets of footsteps and they were coming straight for him. Why hadn't he brought a gun? He had several.

He turned around and found that a hoodlum had approached his position, followed by a loyal drube who was hanging back a bit. Felix had his back to the wall and scanned the area for anyone else. It was just them. They both stopped.

"What you doing here?" the leader wanted to know.

"Just looking at the art." Felix knew midsentence this was the wrong response.

"What? You some kind of Homo or something?" He looked at his follower who was still standing back a few meters. The follower started looking around, which let Felix know that the leader had bad intentions. The follower seemed passive. Maybe if he could fight off the leader for a few seconds, maybe knee him in the balls, then he would be off the hook. As long as he didn't…

Ok… The leader is producing a handgun. 1911 clone, matt silver, magna ported for reduced muzzle jump. He could still disarm the leader, but he would have to get closer. As if on cue the man closed the distance, grabbed Felix throat, backing him up to the wall and pressing the gun against Felix lips, distorting their form.

"You a Homo?" Not knowing what to say, he remained silent, which he thought was the normal passive thing to do when being robbed (this being his first time).

He had been confused for a second with the gun to his mouth and the accusation of being gay. Then he suddenly became clear and he immediately realized how excited he was. His chest was heaving. The man's hand at his throat felt a little over dominating. He could have just asked for the money, or anything for that matter.

Felix looked over at the follower, who was now acting as a lookout. "Don't look at us!" the robber yelled and forced Felix to turn around, helping Felix place his hands on the wall, kicking his legs apart. He had lost his window for a disarm, but at this point Felix just wanted to know where this was all going. "Don't move!" the robber commanded.

Felix could tell by his voice that the robber was excited too. At this point he couldn't feel the gun anywhere on him, but suddenly his hands started searching Felix back pockets. He soon found the $200. "What's this? You a crack head or something?" Felix lied that he was. "He's a crack head, and his gay," the robber muttered to himself. "Got any more money?"

Felix didn't answer, so now the robber's hands was feeling up his body, looking for anything of value. It was an intimate moment for Felix. The touch was soothing him as he heard the robber's rapid breathing behind him. Then… "Bet you got more money in your underwear, though."

Felix felt the robber pull his pants back, then suddenly a hand was searching places where Felix never kept any money. He instinctively clenched his fists as they were pressed against the wall. Felix gasped silently, almost becoming nauseated by the naughtiness of the situation. Not finding any rolls of money, the hand finally withdrew.

Felix became aware that his excitement was growing, but he suppressed it. The fact that he really was gay was bad enough. To become visibly provoked would have been too much of a violation at this late stage in the robbery. Plus, he wasn't sure how the robber would react.

The man continued searching Felix legs and the inside of his socks. Felix knew the climax was over and the robbery was winding down, as he was quickly running out of body parts to search. He smiled to himself as he faced the wall, not knowing exactly why, but he sure was feeling elated.

Finally the robber stood up, grabbed the back of Felix neck, pressed the gun against his jaw and ordered him to stand like this for ten minutes before moving. It was over. He heard the two sets of footsteps retreat. The rain started again. Felix laughed, turning around and pressing his back against the graffiti covered wall. How the hell was he to paint all this?

During the bus ride home, Felix was thoughtful and calm, listening to the rain hitting the bus window. Getting robbed in the ghetto: $200. Having somebody search your pants: Priceless. It wasn't until Felix was back inside his loft that he realized that the robber had been gay, too, or at least latently so.

Yeah. Felix knew from experience that you could get excited when committing crimes, but this guy had searched his torso really well. And who straps money to their torso anyway? Or the entire length of their legs, for that matter? No. This robber was using this as an opportunity to feel up men, and he probably wasn't aware of it himself. This robber was just way too gay.


	2. Chapter 2

MX Blind Imagination

MX2 – Another Thing

Felix woke up after a good sleep. It was late in the afternoon and the sun was filtering in through a crack in the curtain. For a change he wasn't hung over, or burnt out, or tapped out, as the saying went. He hadn't slept this good for months without taking anything.

Without moving, he recalled the events of last night. By now he was referring to the person who had robbed him as his "own personal thug." And who was the reluctant by-character who had been looking out?

The more Felix thought about it, the more he became convinced that his thug was a Homo in disguise. It was the over dominance, the laboured breathing and excited voice, the fact that he had body raped Felix with his left hand trying to find money, not to mention the whole underwear thing. It all added up in Felix mind. What made it even more hot was that the guy was convinced he was straight. So cute.

Just because he had survived a trip to the ghetto in the middle of the night didn't mean Felix felt he was immune. He had been lucky, no doubt, but he secretly longed to be seduced by some robber again. Nobody had touched him like that before. He had to go back. Tonight.

After getting up Felix went out to grab a coffee and a muffin. Well back at his loft, he set to work on the painting. It came easily to him this time. It was a half-naked black thug with his hands tucked in his pants, the background laden with authentic graffiti work.

He had gotten all the details right. It was the exact gun from the robbery, complete with magna porting. Even the face of the thug was right. Felix had a photographic memory, and he had reproduced the face of his thug flawlessly, a detail he would never tell the client, but which anyone would be able to feel once they looked at the painting.

Usually it would take a number of days to finish a painting, sometimes weeks, but this one he painted all in one go, spending all day doing it. By the time he was finished, it was already dark. He stood the painting in a corner and admired it for a few minutes, satisfied at his work.

And since he already had his painting, going back to the ghetto was completely unnecessary. He didn't feel as scared as the first time, but he knew that was just because he had had 24 hours for the fear to run its course, with all its stages, through his little body. Now, having survived the first excursion, he was growing tolerant to this specific type of fear.

The reality, he knew, was that the more times he went, the greater the chance would be that something went wrong. Maybe just this one last time. The previous trip had not only brought him the painting, now Felix was coming up with a whole concept for a new line of paintings. He hadn't exhausted the inspiration he got, as there was much more to tell. Perhaps this last trip would bring something else, a different aspect of his experience of the ghetto, other than fear and elation.

So there he was, on that same bus, around the same time of the early morning. This time he had brought no money. $200 was a good price for the ride, but he knew he could get it for free. In his pockets were only his keys.

This time he got off at a different stop. There was a corner store there and a few black youth were milling around in front. Not having any money, he couldn't go in the store. Showing that he had money probably wouldn't be a good idea anyway.

The kids were no more than 14 years old. He didn't feel as if they were going to rob him, although they certainly could have, but there was still a big threat. Young people, in his own experience, had fewer boundaries when it came to violence. Maybe they weren't old enough to have to prove their worth, but they didn't understand the actual physical consequences of causing bodily harm, to both the victim and the perpetrator.

Take that and add some inexperienced group decision making process, it was apparent that if he offended any one of them, he could be in for a serious beating. And what the hell were 14 year olds doing outside past midnight anyway? It could be an embryonic gang.

Felix tried to hurry past them, careful not to make eye contact. As he did so, the kids were hurling insults at him, calling him white and gay. But it was a playful thing, just having fun. Felix knew what insults sounded like if people really want to kill you. The kids probably called everyone gay that wasn't black.

Behind the corner store was a high rise residential complex. It consisted of three buildings and what must be a common building in the centre. Felix had heard of these. It was basically subsidised housing, allowing people and families to live in an actual decent apartment while still on government assistance. The drawback was that all the poverty was now concentrated in these three buildings, a breeding ground for gang activity that was constantly supplied by kids such as at the store, with no after school activity. The type of housing he was looking at had earned the nick name "project," as if though it was some kind of social experiment gone wrong.

He wanted to go in. That would almost certainly mean meeting people. It dawned on him that it wasn't the darkness or the state of ruin that scared him about the ghetto. It was the people. The kids in the store had been alright. Sure, they would have killed him if given the opportunity, but it was a different story to venture into somebody's building, where somebody lived. Then he would be an actual intruder.

He had to do it though. Since he was already here and risking his life, it would be a waste not to go in and see it all. Just the anticipation brought him more inspiration as he crossed the big park in the middle of the buildings.

He did feel a little guilty for wanting to exploit the urban culture in his art, but the truth was, at this moment, he was the only one with both the idea and the talent at the same time. It's not like any of these thugs were going to paint homoeroticized paintings based on their life experience. These were his paintings to paint.

As he got closer to the building he had chosen, he could see two men outside the door. One was standing to one side, like a sentry, the other one was sitting on a concrete ledge. It was too late to turn back since that would have been suspicious and might have caused them to chase him. He had to walk through that door no matter what. His breathing was shallow.

He must have been more excited than he was aware, because he could only remember bits of the conversation. He had tried to walk through the door, but had been confronted and asked where he was going, asked if he was a gang member, a cop? He denied everything and said that he was returning a set of keys that someone had dropped, holding out his own keys. Who was it for? He didn't know. Apartment 304. The man had said a female name that Felix really wished he could remember. Where did he find the keys? College. It all checked out. He was let in.

There had been some laughs and chuckles as they let him in about the college girl dropping her keys. Felix laughed, too, but as soon as he turned around his face was stricken by horror. What did he think he was doing, walking into gang territory? In the middle of the night (if there was ever a good time of day)?

Well in the lobby he quickly fingered the elevator button. The elevator opened to his great relief and he stepped in, pushing the top floor. There was the smell of urine in the elevator. One of the lights were flickering and he realized that someone had burned all the buttons with a cigarette. Looking around he saw some impressive tags drawn on the sheet metal of the elevator wall with a magnum sized marker. For a moment he forgot where he was.

The elevator dinged and the door opened. Felix stuck his head out. The hallway was quiet, empty. He saw an exit sign at the end of the hallway and decided to walk there. As he walked, he could hear sounds from inside some of the units.

There was someone playing rhythm and blues, a song about how sexy some girl was. In another unit a baby was crying. He stopped in front of one of the units and thought he heard the distinct sound of crack being smoked with its fizzing. The smell confirmed it.

The paint on the walls was chipping. The doors were paper thin. Garbage littered the hallway. He got to the exit sign and opened the door. It lead to a staircase occupied by three crack addicts who were using a light bulb and a lighter to cook crack. They were all looking at him as he entered the top of the staircase and the big steel door slammed shut behind him. He was trapped.

But they only asked if he wanted some. He said no, but asked if he could sit in the staircase for a while. They allowed it. He sat down for a bit, but soon the door opened to show an angry security guard with a flash light who chased everyone away. Felix managed to not fall in the scuffle to get downstairs.

On the bottom flight was an exit where they ran out and the crack addicts scattered in the dark. Felix slowed down and relaxed, continuing walking in the direction where the thought the corner store was.

He had the right bearing, but he approached the store from the back, through an alley. At the mouth of the alley he stopped. There was someone kneeling down by the store, spray painting with a can. Felix wanted to turn around and go the other way, not wanting to disturb this graffiti artist, should he be a gang member too. But the opportunity to see the art being created in real time was too much of a promise to Felix. He walked slowly, the way you approach a wild animal.

It was a young man. Corn rowed hair. Baggy jeans. White t-shirt. Some tattoos on his arm. The man stood up as Felix got closer, just looking at him. Felix could tell right away that this was not a situation where he would get mugged. This was an artist, like himself.

The art work revealed that too, as he got closer (for some reason he had kept walking, even after eye contact). As Felix came up to the man, without a word, he was offered the spray can.

Tears were almost welling up as Felix let loose on the wall with the spray can. He put into the mural all the feelings he had gathered in that project. By the time he was finished, he was panting. He looked over at the man, who was obviously very impressed by the work.

"This your first time, aint it?" was his only comment. Felix nodded and caught his breath. "Well god damit to hell, you got some serious promise in you, boy." They laughed at this. Felix shrugged his shoulders.

For a while the two men just stood looking at the art they had created together. No comments necessary. It was obvious that it was good. But soon the man had to go. He asked for Felix number, saying that he was going to teach him about graffiti. He left.

Felix walked around the corner where the youth were still gathered. They recognized him and hurled the same insults. This time Felix looked at them and smiled, which drew a good reaction and some more friendly insults.

He got to the bus stop where a few early morning commuters had already gathered. They all got on the bus. Felix felt satisfied at how the night had gone. He had made a friend. There was some kind of trophy value hanging in the air about that.

It's one thing to have been to the ghetto. It's one thing to have been robbed in the ghetto. It's another thing to have been to the ghetto and made a friend. An artist. It pleased him to know that on a wall out there was his first graffiti mural. And somewhere out there, was his artist.


	3. Chapter 3

MX Blind Imagnination

MX3 – Straight Qualifier

The phone rang. This was the second night in a row that Felix had gone to bed completely sober, so waking up happened quickly. The time was 11:00am, exactly. Who was calling him this early? He looked at the phone, didn't recognize the number. Should he answer it?

"Hello?"

"This Felix?" a voice said. He could tell right away it was his artist from the alley last night. He sat up in bed and got his medium length hair out of his face with a snap of the neck.

"Oh, hi." Felix didn't know what to say here. "How is everything going?"

"It's cool… you know." Silence on the line. "So… I was going to the club tonight. Wondering if you wanna come with."

"Yeah. I'd love to." He was given the address and the time which he wrote down on a sketch book he had by the side of the bed before they hung up.

Just when he hung up he realized that he had never asked for the artist's name. Now there was an awkward moment waiting to happen when he was going to have to ask for the name when they were already too deep in the friendship. Maybe he could just wait until someone said his name.

Felix got up and drew a bath. While the water was running he went to his closet. It was with a tinge of horror that he realized that pretty much all his clothes were way too gay. He had been approaching this whole thing wrong. Whatever happened to camouflage? No wonder he got robbed.

Sitting in the bath he wondered what to do. It was likely that he was being taken to a black night club. He wanted to fit in as good as he could, being white, to avoid any unnecessary bullying. He didn't want to force his new friend to fight for him on their first night out. But what could he do?

Some baggy clothes would probably do good. Maybe he could shave his head, or get a bald fade and put one of those hip hop caps on. Felix knew there were white members of the hip hop community. Somehow they were able to survive in the ghetto. You just needed the right clothes. And the attitude of course.

The clothes he could do. Attitude would have to come later, if at all. He didn't aspire to live in the ghetto, just spend one night in a club without drawing unwanted attention. He had an idea of where to go. In fact, he knew just the place. He got out of the bath and put on his least gay clothes.

Down on Younge Street was the place. Felix was standing outside of a clothing shop with the latest hip hop blaring on speakers outside the store. He knew the place well, but had never gotten the idea to go inside. This wasn't the type of camouflage he was used to.

On the outside of the store were different outfits on display. There was a red jean suit, a green jean suit, a blue jean suit, a camouflage jacket and pants, and so on. Felix was still looking up at them as he pushed his way through the door. A bell chimed.

He was alone in the store. A chubby light skinned woman came out from a back room, then stopped dead in her tracks, looking Felix up and down. For a while she just stood there.

"Er… Hi. I'd like some help." The woman relaxed and came forward.

"What you want?" she said kindly.

"I need a couple of outfits." In reply, the woman just reached behind a drape, turned up the volume of the same music from outside and looked at Felix with a serious face (that was overly dramatic).

Over the sound of the hip hop, the woman helped Felix into some outlandish outfits. He tried on the camouflage first, a thick jacket of an outdoor material with matching pants, some beige suede boots and a camouflage cap. He wanted this one.

Next was a baggy black jean suit with big white stitching, only a white tank top underneath, and some white sneakers. This one was good too. He wanted it. She added a black and white bandana for his head.

The third and final suit he chose was some shimmering purple/navy pants, an urban camo t-shirt, a black vest with some fur at the collar, and some glittering shoes to go with that. This one was a little over the top, but Felix wanted options.

The whole party cost him way over $1000, but Felix saw it as a worthwhile investment. He wanted his new friend to be at ease with him. Walking down Younge Street with big bags, he had a determined smile on his face.

Next stop was the barber shop, just a few blocks down. This one, too, catered to black people. Inside was dark and gloomy, some R&amp;B was playing softly in the background (this one about some sexy woman as well, and what they singer wanted to do to her). There were three barbers in the shop, but only one seemed to pay him any attention, the older one.

"What can I do for you?" he asked Felix.

"What can you do with this?" Felix grabbed a tuft of his medium length hair.

"I can corn row it," the barber said pointing at a picture. This was the same hairstyle that his artist friend had. Maybe it would be seen as too gay if he matched the same hair style. But it was true that it was popular. Every other black person had had it at least once. Almost all the rappers had it. It would definitely complete the look for him.

"I'll go for it," Felix said and sat down in the chair by the man. He immediately set to work, parting Felix hair and braiding. It hurt a lot, Felix noted, and he was beginning to worry about how much it was going to cost. Maybe he could only do this once in a while.

"So who you looking good for?" the barber asked to Felix surprise.

"Just a friend."

"She better be more than just a friend for you to spend this much money on hair. What you got in all them bags? New clothes?" Felix chuckled in response. "Gotta be careful not to get your heart broken."

"I think I already am," Felix admitted. The barber went into a monologue of advice talking about how women will be impressed by money at first and so on, but Felix went into his own thoughts knowing none of this applied to him.

Felix reflected on his admission to being heart broken. It was true that he was about to be heart broken. He had just blown about $2000 on a new look for some guy he had only met once. This wasn't normal behaviour for him. Was he falling in love without even knowing it?

The worst thing was that his friend was perfectly straight, no latency about him. Felix guessed that's what made him so hot. Just like old straight men dream about being with young women, gay men dream about being with someone straight. It's that which you can't have. Felix referred to it as his "straight fetish."

Now he was about to embark on a doomed relationship with a straight man, but he didn't feel it was futile. Just because you love someone doesn't mean you have to do it. It would be enough just to be around, see what they do in life, share a meal, things like that. Or was he lying to himself?

The hair took a good hour to complete. It set him back almost $200. Walking to the street car with his big bags and his new corn rows, he was more thoughtful about his situation. He did draw some admiring looks from a white girl here and there (one of them a middle aged woman in a business suit).

Well at home he forgot his predicament as he tried on his new clothes, this time with some attitude. He wanted to be able to drop some names of rappers, so he looked up top 10 lists for hip hop on Youtube. A few songs in, it became clear that rap music is very homophobic, so instead he searched for some instrumental hip hop.

He found a few good tracks and ran a regular video on mute beside the instrumental, imitating the gesturing and dancing of the rappers. He noted that he didn't have any oversized jewellery like they did in the videos, but he thought it was for the better, since he didn't want to give anyone any unnecessary incentive to rob him again. Nothing that he would have to defend.

Felix was standing outside the night club. He was wearing the urban camo t-shirt with the vest and the glittering shoes. This had been a bad idea. Everyone wore completely different clothes than the one's he had seen in the store. They looked good. He looked like Captain Jack Sparrow, a caricature of a rap artist gone insane. Girls were looking at him and smiling. He was probably the laughing stock of the entire club, and he hadn't even gone through the doors yet.

His friend showed up out of nowhere. "Yo! Those are some fresh threads!" he offered. Felix was not relieved, thinking he was just being nice. "It really suits you." Still not sure if that was an insult. Felix acted indifferent, which he realized came off as cool in his friends eyes. They stood in line and were let in for a fee.

The music in the club was loud and of a better variety than the top 10 lists on Youtube. The club lay in darkness and they drew a lot of looks making their entrance. "Chicks are digging you man!" the friend yelled over the music.

That's when Felix realized that the girls weren't smiling because his outfit was ridiculous, it was because it was the most ridiculous, which in this world meant that he was the alpha male. They honestly believed he was a straight, hot male in a crowd of normal people. He bobbed his head to the music the way he had seen in the rap videos.

A group of white girls came rushing forward. "Sugar cane!" the leader yelled and threw her arms around his friend. The girls stood in line to hug him. "Who's this?" she said looking Felix up and down like he was made of candy.

"This is my friend, Felix. He's from…"

"I'm from England," Felix said, lowering his voice a couple of pitches (trying to sound straight).

"Oooh. I never met somebody from England before. So hot!" Felix acted indifferent, partly because it was the coolest thing he knew how to do, partly because he wasn't interested in white ho's at all, or any woman for that matter. The act worked. Now all her friends wanted him too, in an obvious manner.

The girls chatted for a while before Felix and his friend went to sit down at a bar by a railing, overlooking the dance floor. Felix was studying the moves while sipping some beer.

"So your name is Sugar Cane?" Felix asked.

"Nah. Only she calls me that. As in, I'm really sweet!" Felix laughed.

The night went well. They talked, learned about each other. Felix was an orphan, the artist (whose name nobody spoke the whole night) is a gang member. At one point a drunk white girl came up to the railing and did some sexy dancing for Felix, trying to get him down on the dance floor. Only on the encouragement of his friend did he oblige. He imitated rap videos. It worked. Suddenly he was surrounded in white girls who were touching his hair. All this must have been seen as a straight qualifier in his friends eyes, was there ever any doubt.


	4. Chapter 4

MX Blind Imagination

MX4 Straight Make-Over

Felix and his friend, whose name he still didn't know, had left the club and were walking down Younge Street on their way to the street car. The plan was to go to Felix loft listen to some music, then the friend was going to crash over.

"So you're from the ghetto, too, then?" the friend asked.

"Not exactly," Felix answered. "I'm from the street though. Been moving around and shit." Felix was getting the hang of the accent, still with a heavy British tone. He didn't have to lie about his past with this artist. Yes, he was putting on an act, but this man understood him in ways that his usual mannequin friends never would. It was a welcome change.

"Felix!" they were interrupted. While they hadn't been paying attention, two men had walked past them, one with the arm around the other. It had taken a second, but one of the men had recognized Felix through all the hip hop he was wearing. It was Felix ex-boyfriend.

Still with his arm around his new boyfriend, the man chuckled. "So what? You're a rapper now? A B-boy? What? Did you get a straight make-over or something?" Felix didn't reply, only by burying his face in his hands, so the man went on.

"Oh… my… god! You really think you're straight now, don't you. Well you weren't so straight two months ago when I kissed your mouth!" Felix looked at his new friend in embarrassment. The friend looked back at him with a spiked eyebrow. There had probably been suspicions. There always were with Felix, since he didn't really hide that he was gay. But this time he had been seriously outed. The secret was out in the open.

"And look at what you're wearing!" the man went on, his quiet boyfriend smirking from behind him. Felix looked down on his clothes. In the club he had been cool, for a few hours. Now he was back on the street and back to looking ridiculous. Even though he was the most ridiculous, in this situation, it didn't mean he was the alpha male. "You look like homie the gay clown!"

"Yo!" the artist friend interjected with an overly aggressive tone and posture, finally getting the ex-boyfriend to shut up and look scared with wide eyes. "This here is some cool shit! Better than your designer wanna be's!" The quiet boyfriend stopped smirking and fixed his cashmere scarf a little self-consciously (it was wrapped several times around his neck). "You better shut up before I smack bofa ya'll!"

There was a second of silence before the malignant ex-boyfriend could catch himself. "What? Are you his new boyfriend or something? Like you have to protect him?" The artist friend looked beside himself with anger, and for a second, everyone present thought there was going to be an exchange of violence. But Felix stopped it.

"Hey, look," he said to his new friend. "Let's just go home and chill." The accent was unconscious at this point. The ex was surprised at how Felix was talking, but he had the presence for one more comment.

"Yeah. Why don't you take your girlfriend and go home. Stroke his hair or something…"

"What the?!" they were all interrupted. They looked up the street to see a black street gang bearing down on them. There must have been at least eight members present. Suddenly they were surrounded.

"Did I just see you get punked off by some fagots?" This must be the leader, Felix thought. It was a large man in a navy down jacket, also with corn rows. "What is wrong with you?"

Felix looked around to find that his ex and his quiet boy had conveniently evaporated into thin air. It was just Felix and the artist, surrounded by accusing faces. "Who this? He looks like a broke down Jack Sparrow."

"This is my friend!" the artist retorted. "He's from England."

"Oh! He's from England," the leader mocked in a British accent. "I'm gay and from England." Felix felt the whole charade slowly running off of him. With all his effort, it was still obvious who he was. He wasn't fooling anybody. Especially not his new friend.

"You better watch your mouth!" the artist pronounced.

"Or what?" the leader said and took a step forward until he was breathing on the artist. For a tense moment, nobody said nothing. "I thought so," the leader said. "If I see your gay ass again, I'ma beat you down. You're lucky we on the open street right now. Hope you find a new crew, bitch!"

The gang continued walking down the street, some looking back at them with ominous faces. They were walking in the same direction as Felix and his friend had been heading, so they couldn't go that way anymore. Instead they turned a corner and took a side street to the next block over.

They didn't speak for the walk down the block, but their internal focus was on the artist. He had just been kicked out of his gang, who were probably friends from his childhood. Without the gang he would be unprotected in the ghetto with nobody to back him up or defend his art. He couldn't even show his face there again for fear of being jumped.

His friend had been outed, too, without even being gay. From this day the rumour would spread and everyone who saw him would seriously believe he was gay. "Yes. He was so good at art," they would say. "We should have seen it." His life was ruined.

They walked the block out and turned to walk down towards the street car. As they got on the street car, still without saying anything, their internal focus shifted towards Felix. He had been outed first. By now it was obvious that the whole rap thing was something he had done just to gain a friend.

It looked shallow. Who did that? It was indeed a straight make-over and it wasn't Felix true self. But in a way, he was glad it was over. It had been exciting, posing as someone else. As much as he didn't need women, it had been fun being surrounded by those white ho's on the dance floor of the club. If he had been interested, that would be something he could definitely do to get women. The thought warmed him.

He looked over at his friend. The friend looked back, obviously in his own thoughts about his friendship with Felix. He didn't say anything, though, which was both polite and sensitive. The fact that he was still here on the street car, on his way to Felix house said a lot.

But maybe he just had nowhere to go. Maybe he just needed a place to crash. But then again, maybe he needed somewhere to stay permanently, now that he couldn't go home. Felix would offer the couch once they got home. He wasn't concerned with sounding gay about it anymore. They rode in silence.

Back at home, Felix quickly put on a good old record. He just wanted to ease the tension a bit after the night's miss-happenings.

"I'm so screwed," the artist said to himself.

"It's ok. You don't have to go back there," Felix said with urgency. "You can stay here. My couch is basically yours. I mean, after I ruined your life and everything." (The accent was disappearing now.)

"You're not even from the streets, are you?"

"No, I am. And I'm an orphan. Everything I said was true. I'm just not into hip hop, that's all. Well, I like it now… I mean…"

"Cute." The artist snickered. "That's a cute thing you did. Dressing up and everything. What were you doing in my hood, anyway?"

"Just looking for inspiration for my art. I was bored. A little suicidal maybe," he chuckled. "I got robbed the night before I met you."

"By who?" Felix held up a finger and went to get his sketch pad. He could have shown him the finished painting with the muggers face, but that would have been too much, Felix felt. So instead he drew a quick sketch of the same face and held it up. "Oh shit! I know that guy. That's G-Shark. Everyone calls him Shark."

Felix was a little taken aback. He sat back in the couch and thought. "Who is he, then?"

"G- Shark hates fag… I mean, gay people, you know?"

"Really?"

"Yeah. But everyone is joking that he hates them so much, he's gonna turn into one someday. He just knows a little too much, you know what I'm saying?" The artist gave a knowing smile, which was very comforting. "As a matter of fact, I'm surprised he didn't gun butt you, or something."

"Let's just say he did something with his hand and my butt," Felix said, not realizing how funny it would sound. His friend broke out in laughter. Felix joined in. Then they fell silent and after a while Felix turned on some different music to break the awkwardness. It was instrumental hip hop.


	5. Chapter 5

MX Blind Imagination

MX5 – Sans Serif

Felix and his friend had been living together for two days now and were enjoying learning about each other's histories. Suddenly the phone rings.

"Hello?"

"Hey Fee, it's me."

"Oh, hi Sarah. You ok?"

"Yeah. Under the circumstances."

"What have you gotten yourself into this time?"

"Nothing heavy, but I need a favour. Can you hold something for me, bro?"

"Nothing heavy? Sure I'll hold it. You in town?"

"Yeah. Can you meet me at the library downtown at noon."

"That's in 45 minutes!"

"I need this, Fee."

"Sure. What the hell. I'll be there. I'll introduce you to my new friend."

"New friend, eh? Can't wait to meet him." They hung up.

Felix turned to his friend who had been listening with a confused expression.

"You're going to meet my sister!" he announced and started rummaging for clothes. "You've been wearing the same clothes for two days now. Put this on," Felix said and threw his friend the camouflage outfit that he had bought.

"Thanks, dog! This is crisp." They got dressed quickly and headed out to take the street car, transferring to the subway to show up at the library at exactly noon. They sat down by a table next to the public computer terminals on the ground floor, where they could see the entrance, waiting for Sarah.

"So let me guess who is your sister," the friend suggested.

"Go for it."

"That one," the friend pointed at a woman in a coat with knee high boots and a purse on her arm. "That your sister?" Felix laughed. "No? Aiiight." He scanned the entrance. "Damn! I hope that's not your sister right there, cause I'ma 'bout to ask that bitch for her number."

He was pointing at an upper middle age woman with white hair and Barbie makeup, sporting a white fur coat and showing off her tanned legs. Felix broke out in laughter. "So that's what you're into, huh?"

"What? She fine as hell. Looks like she got money too."

"Yeah? What else do you like?" Without missing a beat he had spotted another one.

"That one, there. I like her." It was a sporty looking Latina in a green track suit. She had on lip gloss and lip liner, a pair of gold hoops in the ears and hair pulled back in a tight bun, with a curl glued to her temple.

"She looks good for you," Felix agreed. "Hip hop, maybe?"

"Definitely! In Spanish, thought. But that's cool." They looked some more. "Oh, shit! That's Felicia!" The friend tried to cover his face somewhat.

"What? Who's Felicia?"

"It's this girl I like." It was a girl in corn rows with an obvious hip hop feel to her. "She's in a rival gang," he said, continuing to cover his face until she walked out of view. It looked kind of high school, hiding like that from a girl you like, but Felix understood that this had more to do with the gay rumours that must be flying around concerning his friend by now.

"Well, you're not in a gang anymore," Felix pointed out. "It should be alright to talk to her now."

"You don't understand…" They were silent for a while. "Man. That be one fine honey."

"Hey! That's Sarah!" Felix slapped his friends arm.

"Shit. That's your sister, dog?"

Felix waved at Sarah, who totally saw them, but ignored them anyway. She continued looking around. Felix had to stand up and wave to get her attention again. Once she saw them, she turned her head to the side in confusion, then slowly walked up to them.

"Fee? Is that you?" The boys stood up to greet her. Sarah took a long bewildered look at Felix, then a pleased look at his friend who hit Felix arm.

"Oh. This is my friend. They call him… Sugar Cane."

"Sugar Cane, huh?" Sarah looked at the friend's pants. The two had a brief heterosexual moment of grinning and lip licking.

"The name is Serif," the friend said and offered Sarah his hand. Felix was relieved to finally have learned Serif's name, but the handshake went on for a little too long and Sarah was beginning to blush.

"Alright. That's quite enough of that," Felix interrupted what might have turned into some library sex. "So this is my sister, Sarah. She's a clone!" Felix gave Sarah a stern look. She hit his arm.

"Fee!"

"For real." Serif was pleased. Felix pulled Sarah away so they could talk. They sat down by the next table. Serif continued to check out girls.

"What's with the getup, Fee?"

"What? It's a hooded sweater. Lots of people wear them."

"Yeah, but the hair?" She patted Felix corn rows.

"Ok. I was doing this straight thing…"

"Feeeeee. No. What are you doing? This isn't you." For a moment Felix resented that Sarah was treating him like a kid. "And who's this? Your new straight boyfriend?"

"We're homies. It's almost the same thing." They both were looking at Serif, who noticed them and gave Felix a head nod. "See! It's totally cool. I got this under control."

"No you don't, Fee. You're in love with this guy. I can tell. I know you, Fee." Felix was quiet.

"Well, just because you love somebody…"

"What? You don't have to do it? How long do you think you can keep that up? Does he even know you're…"

"Yeah, he knows. Seems cool about it. He's been staying at my house."

"What? He lives with you? This is a lot deeper than I expected." Sarah looked away and shook her head. "Do you know he's straight? I mean, did you see the way he was looking at me?"

"I know. I know. It's just a phase, ok?" Felix tried to calm Sarah down. I have to do this at least once. You should see the way girls look at me now." Sarah chuckled. Felix was satisfied that Sarah was calming down. "So how is Kira?" Felix changed the subject.

"Oh, god. The things I put that child through. She's ok, I guess. She's tough."

"So what are you into?"

"I can't really say anything. Stole something from a company. Now people are after me. The usual."

"What do you want me to hold? Are people coming after me now?"

"It should be fine. If anything happens to me, give this to Cosima, please." She handed Felix an object wrapped in a coarse navy blue cloth. Felix knew better than to open it. He just stuffed it into the front pocket of his hoodie.

"No problem. I'll hold on to it," Felix promised.

"Look. I've gotta run. Love you, Fee." She hugged him as they stood up. "Good luck with your boyfriend," she said and waved at Serif, who smirked back at her seductively. She headed for the checkout counter and the exit.

Felix went get his friend and they left the library too. They walked down the street in silence until Serif couldn't hold it any more. "So your sis is really a clone, huh?" Felix felt put on the spot. He didn't want to lie to Serif. "It's cool," Serif went on. "I know about shit like that. Supposedly they been doing it since the 60's, in secret. You met any other ones?"

"Yeah." Felix smiled to himself. "If you're into Sarah, you should meet Helena."

"How many are there?"

"I don't know. We knew about eight or nine of them at one point. Look, no offence. I'm not supposed to be talking about this. You understand, right?"

"Sure. No sweat. I'm just glad I shook hands with one. Thanks bro, for trusting me."

"Hey."

"So who's this Helena, you mentioned."

"Drop it!" The friend laughed out loud.

"I'm just messing with you, man." They walked in silence.

"So your parents named you Serif?" Felix pried.

"Nah. That's just my street name. People call me that." Serif offered no further explanation, causing Felix disappointment to sink in. At this point, he knew he would never know the name. It seemed that Serif was deliberately withholding his real name.


	6. Chapter 6

MX Blind Imagination

MX6 – Bob Cog

Felix had asked Serif to stand outside while he hid the object Sarah had given him. "You can come in now!" he yelled, and Serif slid the door open to let himself in. They sat down at the couch.

"So what are we doing tonight?" he asked Felix.

"I don't know. Nothing on the program, really."

"Well we gotta do something. We can't just sit here all night."

"I can teach you how to paint," Felix said after some thought.

"Yeah," Serif said, blowing some wind. "That will be the day. I like my spray cans."

"You're right. You should stick to your art. But we should do something together. What if we work with markers. You use markers for some of your graffiti, don't you?"

"Hmmm." Serif thought. "Sure. What do you have in mind?"

"Let's just go with it. It will be spectacular. Original art by two original gangsters." Serif laughed at this.

They stood up and went over to Felix creative area. Felix put a fresh canvas on the stand and opened a drawer full of markers. One of them was a jumbo. "Here. That should be your size. Unfortunately, the only colour I have is gold."

"It's cool." Serif took the marker and inspected it. Felix continued to look for some markers that were more his size. Without warning Serif started marking up the canvas. Felix stood back in shock.

It was beautiful how he handled that marker. Quick and confident strokes. Big strokes, leaving a golden trail on the white canvas that was textured like the canvas itself, leaving little white voids in the recesses.

"I'm impressed. What is it?"

"It's a word. See these hooks at the edge of the letters. That's a serif. It's what I'm known for. That's how people can tell it's my art. Where I got my name."

"Serif," Felix mused. He had found some turquoise markers of a smaller calibre that he thought would go good with the gold. He began filling in the spaces in between the golden paths with turquoise patterns.

Serif stood back and watched as Felix worked with speed. The patterns were nothing more than doodles, but Felix was an artistic genius, so when he was finished, the piece looked incredibly amazing. Gold, white spaces and turquoise patterns.

"We are so getting money for this," Felix said. "I know exactly who is going to buy it."

"Sweet." Serif was happy with the work. But now they were bored again. Since they were both skilled, the piece had taken less than an hour to produce. They sat back down on the couch. "So what brings you the most excitement?" Serif asked.

Felix thought about it. The only thing that brought him real excitement was his missions. He had one coming up next month. But these were things that the job dictated you couldn't talk about. He wanted Serif to know who he really was. It wouldn't be the same if Serif wasn't there to see it for himself anyway. You have to feel the adrenalin. Hear the reports of the gun echoing between buildings. Maybe he should take Serif with him. Give Serif a chance to make real money.

"It's not a trick question," Serif reminded Felix, who was thinking too long.

"I guess sex and crime," Felix blurted out.

"Well we ain't having no sex, alright?" Felix laughed at this. "What crimes have you done?"

"Break and enters, mostly. Some shoplifting when I was on the street, in my younger days." Serif nodded slowly and rubbed his hands together.

"I've done BNE's too," he finally said. They both looked at each other with mischievous looks. "This is going down," Serif suggested.

"It's going down," Felix agreed. They stood up and began choosing clothes.

Serif put on the black jean suit with white stitches that Felix had bought. He tied the black bandana around his neck like a cowboy. Felix chose some tight black pants, a tight sweater and a big gray scarf, topping it off with a black toque. They headed out and locked up the loft.

Neither of them were professional burglars, so they didn't have a plan as to where to go and how to do it. Just that the house had to be empty. They hopped on the street car and rode for a while.

Felix was excited to be doing this with Serif. He realized that the whole reason he was bored all the time was because he was trying to stay out of trouble so he would be clean for his next mission. That was his life. Pull missions and stay clean. If he had wanted to he could have pulled break-ins just for fun. He just never thought of it.

Serif motioned that it was time to get off. He knew this neighbourhood and it was promising. They rang the bell and walked out into the darkness. It still wasn't too late, so windows were lit up here and there. They walked for a while before Serif indicated that this was the house. What process he was using to choose was a mystery to Felix, but he was having fun, so he went along with it.

They walked around the back of the house and started trying to open windows. One was open. "Here. Give me a boost," Serif asked. Serif was considerably heavier than Felix, so it was awkward trying to get him through the window, ending up with Felix pushing desperately against Serif's butt.

Serif disappeared into the house, then showed up a minute later, opening the back door for Felix. He walked into the dark house. They were in the kitchen.

"We did it," Serif announced. He gave Felix the high five. They began looking around, opening cupboards and drawers. "What's this?" asked Serif, rooting through a kitchen drawer.

"That would be an orange peeler," Felix said with confidence.

"An orange peeler? They have a tool for that? What kind of messed up people live here, anyway?" Felix chuckled. In response he opened the fridge.

"Well, obviously it's a keener who runs this place," he said holding the fridge door open to show a perfectly organized fridge.

"Jesus!" Serif exclaimed. "Looks like one of those fridges from the Tupperware commercials." It was true. Everything was placed perfectly in its box, arranged by size and colour. Serif opened a cupboard to reveal the same trend, perfectly organized. "Yo, this guy is a freak."

Felix closed the fridge and looked at the pictures that were held to it by magnets. "Single dad," he said unceremoniously, looking at a picture of a balding white man in horn rimmed glasses and a short sleeved shirt. He was holding a girl about six years old.

They moved into the living room, which was equally neat. It looked like it had just been cleaned. The remote controls on the coffee table were arranged as if they were on display to be sold. Felix felt sorry for the girl who probably had to put the controls back exactly the way they were after changing the channel.

Serif had found a video game and turned the TV on, checking out the games in the glow of the screen. He put one in. It was Sonic the Hedge Hog. They played for a few minutes forgetting the seriousness of the situation, before moving on to inspect the downstairs bathroom.

"This guy is seriously messed up," Serif said, holding a cupboard open to reveal what must be a year's supply of soap and shampoo, neatly stacked to take up the whole cupboard. The towels were perfectly folded as if at a hotel. They moved upstairs.

They peeked in one room. It was the girl's. On the wall hung some posters of boy bands. There was a stereo, but the desk was as insanely organized as the fridge and the bathroom downstairs. "Poor girl must be emotionally traumatized from all this control," Felix muttered. "The bed must have been made according to military specifications."

They checked out the master bedroom. Serif went through the closet while Felix carefully looked through each dresser drawer, finding only perfectly folded underwear, socks and t-shirts. "Look at this!" Serif was holding up a gun box. It was a Glock. "Should we take it?"

Felix shook his head, no, with furrowed eyebrows. He didn't want that kind of heat on him. If they stole the gun, it would be reported and the house would be processed by forensics. They were sure to be caught eventually down the line. As long as they didn't take anything, technically, it wasn't a crime.

Felix lay down on the bed and patted the spot beside him, where Serif lay down. "So you think this guy is happy?" he asked Serif.

"No way. That's why he's trying to control everything."

"Yeah. We should like, totally mess with is order, or something."

"Yeh. He would freak."

"I bet he just goes to work every day," Felix said. "He comes home to his perfect house and what he hopes is his perfect daughter. She due to rebel any time now. It's gonna be ugly."

"I hate you, dad!" Serif mocked. "You never let me do anything. So unfair." They laughed at Serif's white teenager accent.

"This guy just wants to be a cog in some machine," Felix concluded. "Let's just be normal and hope to get away with it."

"No doubt. He's a regular Bob." They finished the talk, got up and headed down to the kitchen, helping themselves to some dried fruit (meant as candy for the girl) from one of the boxes in the cupboard, making sure they put it back perfectly so nobody would know they had been there.


	7. Chapter 7

MX Blind Imagination

MX7 – Heart On Fire

The two friends awoke in Felix loft the night after the break-in with the sun beaming in through cracks in the curtains. Felix opened the curtain by his bed to let in a glorious flood of light. Serif shaded his eyes. Felix opened the window.

"Oh my god! It's hot outside." It was a freak summer day in the middle of the fall. Felix spun around to look at Serif. "We've just got to do the roof today. It might be our only chance. Let's hit the beer store."

They got dressed and headed outside in the sunshine. It was really warm and the hoodies they were wearing was a little too much for this heat, as they were sweating underneath. They walked a few blocks down the street to the beer store.

Well inside they took their time choosing. It ended up with Felix choosing a Turkish beer he had never tried before, a six pack of bottles, and Serif choosing a big bottle of malt liquor. They went to the cash register to pay.

During the walk back they recalled the details of the break-in and what they had learned about the family. Felix said that he could never imagine living like that. It wasn't just the order that bothered him. It wasn't that he loved chaos or anything (well, he did), it was just the attitude of going to work every day and then coming home to this hobby home. It showed some kind of fear, Felix thought, as if the owner of the house was trying to keep up some illusion for fear that everything would fall apart if something was to ever be out of place in a cupboard.

Serif admitted that he had almost been married once. If he had, he would probably be living that kind of life right now. He'd be working to pay off mortgages and debts, working to keep his woman happy. No way he could do graffiti like that. He needed freedom to roam at night, freedom to follow his inspiration, not waste his life in some day job.

Felix agreed. Without his art, he would just be a prisoner of some corporation, or a slave for some economic goal that once achieved would draw some minor approval from his mannequin friends once in a while, but otherwise just be there for Felix to regret. Yeah, they were lucky not to have ended up like that.

Back at Felix house, instead of entering the loft, they just brought their beer with them and took the staircase leading to the roof. The building was an old commercial location, so it was taller than the two story homes around them, giving them a good view of that part of the city.

For a while they just stood there taking in the view. There were roof tops as far as they could see, with TV antennas and satellite dishes on them. Here and there someone had gotten the same idea as them and was enjoying the sunshine from their own roof.

Felix fished out a multi tool from his pocket and opened one of his beers. Serif screwed off the top of his and they said cheers, clanking the bottles together loudly. Felix walked out to the edge of the roof and looked down on the street below.

A bald man in a short sleeved white shirt walked by with his little dog on a leash, not noticing the two spectators above. Felix motioned to Serif. "Think that's him?" Felix was alluding to the owner of the house they broke into. Serif chuckled in response.

After a while they sat down in the middle of the roof and began drinking. Neither of them was talking. Serif was sweating, so he took off his hoodie. The tank top came off, too, revealing a collection of tattoos all over his arms and torso.

"Nice art!" Felix offered. Serif didn't answer, he just looked at his tattoos. "Where d'you get 'em?" Felix pressed on.

"Which one?"

"How about that one," Felix pointed at some graffiti words on his left forearm. Serif was silent while looking at it. Felix could tell that he had touched something painful.

"This is the name of my old crew, the one you met down on Younge Street."

"What does it say?"

"This says Strikers," he drew a line with his finger over it. "This says Crew." He didn't say anything else. Felix knew he was thinking about his old life, the life he would never get back simply because he had associated with Felix. He felt at fault, but wanted to know more.

"How is it that you guys got together in the first place?" Felix asked. Serif lit up at this question.

"We were all eight years old, in school," Serif said with some nostalgia. "There was this bully. He was taller than everyone, older, a really crazy kid. He used to pick on me because of my art. Calling me gay and shit. He picked on everybody. Didn't have any friends."

"Everyone was scared of this guy. Every time you saw him in the hallway, you would get this feeling of horror. Like, what would he do? All the kids hated him."

"Then one day, for some reason, people had had enough. It's not like any of us planned it. There was this one kid in school, nobody liked him, this little geek. But he just kept to himself. Never bothered anybody. One day the bully started picking on him, doing weird shit like drawing on his face, spitting on him. There were four of us. We just happened to walk by in the hallway, seeing this shit happen to this little guy, and we all stopped, looking at each other."

"It was me, the leader and two other kids. The bully was distracted with what he was doing. The leader looked at all of us and motioned that we could take this guy down. We had all been victims before, so we were all angry seeing this happen to that poor kid. We jumped in at the same time."

"It wasn't really even a fight. It wasn't no beating. The leader was there first, he took the guys knee out from behind to get him down. From there it was just a matter of all four of us pulling him to the ground, grabbing at his clothes. The bully was still holding on to that kid's collar, so he went down with us."

"By now other kids had gathered around us to look on in silence. There were so many of his victims in that crowd, nobody called for a teacher. We were just holding him down as he struggled and swore at us. The leader was holding his head, I was holding his legs, one kid was holding his arm and the last one was trying to get the kid's collar free from the bully's grip. It took a while, but we finally got him free and told him to run."

"That's when the teacher came by. It looked bad, of course. Suddenly the four of us were sitting in the principal's office, waiting to be talked to. As we waited, without saying a word, we all bumped fists and nodded to each other. We had done it. I guess it was at that moment the crew was formed, because we all became best friends."

"The principal gave us hell, our parents were called and we got detention for four days. But everyone in the school loved us. Soon, other kids would come up to us and want to be a part of our crew. The bully never bothered anyone again. Suddenly he stopped coming to school. We see him nowadays, but since we are all the same height now, he's not so tough any more. Rumour is he started smoking crack."

Felix nodded thoughtfully. "Wow. That is a great story. I'm sorry you had to leave all that behind for me."

"It's cool. It wasn't really going anywhere anyway. Once you hit a certain age, being in a gang becomes serious."

"How about that one," Felix pointed at the cross with a flaming heart on his right forearm. Again, this drew a long silence which was even more painful than the one preceding the gang story.

"Shit. This one I got in jail." Serif thought for a moment, wanting to recall the details of this story. "Me and the leader had been caught for robbery. It was just before we turned 18. We had the same lawyer, but because I had been the one behind the gun, the leader went to juvie, while I was sent to adult jail."

"I had been to juvie a couple of times already, so I thought it was no big deal. Adult jail is a whole different kind of story, though. I wasn't ready for it. My first night in, something terrible happened." Serif was silent.

"What happened?" Felix asked.

"Jail shit." Serif was silent as Felix could see him recall the images. "Anyway, there were crazy people in there who didn't give a damn about anything. A guy in there was Christian. He saw that I wasn't liking what was going on, so he invited me to his cell and started talking about God and shit."

"He said I was young and at a point in my life where I needed to make a choice. Should I follow along with everything that was happening and become a criminal for life? Or, would I give my life to Jesus?"

"I knew after what I saw that I didn't have the stomach for it, so I prayed with the man and gave my life to Jesus. Now, this man was a serious criminal, too, don't get me wrong, but he was a kind man and he took me under his wing."

"At first I didn't notice anything, but once when I was reading the Bible, I got this feeling in my chest I never had before. It's impossible to describe it, but it was pleasant. I tried to describe it for the man and he told me it was the Holy Spirit, that God had touched my heart."

"On another occasion, I thought I was being cornered by some of the inmates. I was holding the Bible in my hand, and, not knowing what to do, I just focused my mind on the Bible. At that moment, I felt the Bible become energized. It was radiating energy. Nobody attacked me and I returned to my cell, but I never told anyone about it, until now." Felix was listening intently.

"So you see, the cross represents Jesus and the fact that he saved me from all that bullshit. The flame on the heart is what I felt, that feeling I can't describe. It means my heart is on fire. I served out my time under this man's protection, and I know to this day that he was sent there by God."


	8. Chapter 8

MX Blind Imagination

MX8 – Out of the Ring

They had stayed on the roof top all day yesterday drinking, making two trips to the liquor store and finally passing out there on the roof, early in the evening. They had been awoken when a cold front had moved in and the normal fall weather had returned, at which point they went inside to continue sleeping.

Now they were awake and it was early afternoon. Felix had an old vintage video game console that Serif had discovered and was very impressed by. Felix only had one game for it, karate, which they popped in and began playing.

As they sat on the couch in front of the TV (which was also vintage), the match got more and more intense and they were bumping each other as they sat close on the couch with the controllers waving in the air in front of them.

"How you like that? Huh?" Serif exclaimed. "You just got served!"

"Don't worry. I'm still feeling you out." They continued feverishly tapping the buttons on the controllers.

"Ok, ok. I see how this is gonna be," Serif said after Felix finally won a match.

"You just got owned," Felix boasted. "This is my game, I own this game, and now I own you."

"Don't get cocky, white boy. I still won three out of four."

"Alright. Whoever wins the next match is the ultimate winner of the entire universe. Deal?"

"Deal!" They played on. Felix won but it was a close match. Serif bowed his head in disappointment, but he snapped back up. "I'd still kick your ass if this was a real fight, cause I'm gangsta!"

"Listen," Felix snickered. "You may be gangsta, but I'm a professional killer. I could kill you."

"Yeah right. The only thing you could kill on me is my buzz, with your boring ass. You'd need, like, a nuclear bomb to kill me."

"I could kill you easily with a knife," Felix said calmly.

"Is that so? Let's do it up then!"

"Serif," Felix said calmly. "We're not going to knife fight. I don't want blood on my carpet. That would be way too embarrassing should the police come by."

"Don't worry. I won't be bleeding," Serif said as he stood up and walked to the door, putting on his camouflage jacket.

"Serif, where you going?" Serif just gave him a serious look and walked out the door, sliding it shut behind him. Felix was left alone in the loft with the 8-bit karate game music still playing. He turned the game off, wrapped the cords around the controllers and put the game back in its box, wondering what he had started.

He could tell Serif wasn't seriously angry, but he had been serious about something, whatever it was. He guessed that gangsters took their combat skills very seriously. He sighed and looked around. This was the first time he had been alone since he and Serif had been outed. They were roommates now and spent all their time together.

Being alone, Felix wasn't sure what to do. He could listen to music, but he didn't feel like it. He wasn't feeling painting right now either. Mostly he was curious what Serif would do when he got back.

He wandered around the apartment and finally ended up in front of the bathroom mirror, messing with the makeup. He carefully drew on a thick layer of eyeliner. It looked good in combination with the corn rows and he smirked at himself.

He hadn't worn eyeliner since he started hanging out with Serif, mostly since he didn't want to make Serif uncomfortable. Eyeliner on guys was a very misunderstood expression. Sure, he was gay, but that's not why he wore it. He wore it because he was an artist. Applying the eyeliner and walking around with your eyes starkly visible made you feel sensitive and vulnerable. He needed this vulnerability in himself in order to perceive the world correctly for his art. Being hard hearted and indifferent wouldn't do at all. Only by being sensitive could the art manifest in the right way.

He picked up some mascara and applied it to his eyelashes. They grew long and prominent. One of the eyelashes got stuck on the brush with a small clump of mascara on it. He removed it from the brush and held it up on his finger.

Felix was in the habit of making a wish whenever he found one of his eyelashes somewhere. It was an old urban superstition that you could get whatever you wanted by wishing on an eyelash. The ritual went that you held the eyelash up on your finger, closed your eyes, then blew on the eyelash while making a wish, the eyelash disappearing into the air, never to be found again.

He wondered who had come up with this, but the fact remained that he always got what he wished for. How it worked he didn't know. Maybe he could change reality by projecting his mind while blowing on the eyelash. Maybe while he blew on the eyelash, the eyelash showed him the future, and that's why his wish always came true.

Felix closed his eyes and blew. His wish was that the next mission would go without a hitch, and that Serif would come on this mission with him to assist him, since the plan he had come up with was a little more elaborate than usual. When he opened his eyes again, he found that the little clump of mascara on the eyelash had caused it to stick to the mirror. What did this mean? He would just have to leave it there.

It was getting boring waiting for Serif to come back. He couldn't stay in the apartment any longer and decided to go for a long walk, with the eyeliner and mascara on. He threw on a jacket and a scarf and headed out.

Walking down the streets of Toronto, feeling vulnerable under the power of the eyeliner, he grew sad and nostalgic. He remembered his time as a street kid, all on his own, fending for himself, as he passed a store where he had stolen a bunch of bananas in a fit of hunger.

Further down was another store where he had stolen a pack of peperoni sticks. He had returned to the store a day later to steal more, thinking it had been easy. The owner had recognized him, noticed that he was just milling about the store without buying and suspected that he was a thief, chasing him out of the store.

As he walked, he passed a park where he had slept on a bench in the middle of the dark night. An old man had approached him as he lay there and asked him for sex. At the time Felix had been sleeping with his hand on a big knife tucked in his jacket. The man must have sensed the danger, because he had quickly walked off after Felix had shook his head.

During the years he spent on the street, he had only slept for two hours at a time before moving to another spot. His reasoning was that, by moving every two hours, anyone who prayed on homeless boys that happened to find him sleeping would not have time to walk away, make up their mind and come back. By the time they finally came back he would be gone. It was a miracle that he had survived at all, because now as an adult, he realized that the reaction time was way less than two hours for anyone that was determined.

All these thoughts had caused a single tear to roll down his cheek, leaving a trail of black eyeliner on his face. He decided to walk home, not thinking any more of those things and that life. He was safe now and could defend himself. Even walking down dark alleys in Toronto, he knew that now it was him who was the danger.

As he opened the door to his loft, he found that the place lay in a murky candle lit haze. In the darkness he could make out Serif sitting on Felix bed. The couch had been moved to make room for a large ring of burning candles.

A little confused, he closed the door behind him. Had Serif gone mad? Felix took off his jacket while his thoughts raced, turning around to find Serif getting up from the bed and stepping down to stand in the middle of the circle of candles. He removed his t-shirt and threw it to the side, motioning with his hands for Felix to come and fight him.

So this is what all this was about. A little dramatic, but nevertheless, there had been some kind of a challenge over the karate game this morning. Now the time had come for them to test their fighting skills. In response, Felix removed his own shirt and entered the ring of candles.

Once in the ring, the rest of the room was completely black. All they could see was each other. For a while they just paced around each other, both of them at a ready stance, but soon, Serif lurched forward and began to grapple with Felix.

Serif was much stronger and heavier than Felix, so he had an obvious advantage. It wasn't long before he had pinned Felix on his back, burning Felix on some of the candles. But Felix didn't scream. He had a high tolerance for pain. Instead he just got up all the more determined.

He didn't have a chance. It became clear that Serif had some kind of background in wrestling. Not only was he strong, but he had technique and finesse, sometimes outright humiliating Felix by taking him down with the sweep of a leg, or by choking him gently in a headlock. Soon they were panting and sweating.

After Serif felt that he had proven his point, he held up his hand to stop the fight (several of the candles had been extinguished by this point). He stepped out of the ring for a second and returned with two dull, wooden knives.

Felix was exhausted from the futile wrestling battle, but seeing the knives, he knew that this was now his fight. Serif could see Felix confidence returning and held back on the attack this time. Instead he was chased around by Felix who battered him with a constant barrage of slicing and stabbing.

They way Felix attacked was to grab Serif's knife hand once he tried to parry the attack, then slicing that arm before moving on to more vital targets. Eventually, Serif was forced to crouch down under a barrage of simulated stabbing to the neck, making him step out of the ring.

They continued on for several rounds, all of which Felix won. In the end, Serif felt defeated and called the fight off. They left the remaining candles burning, sat down on the raised platform (where the bed was), while Felix rolled a joint in between laboured breathing.


	9. Chapter 9

MX Blind Imagination

MX9 – Ass Scratching

Serif had gone home to pick up his stuff. While he was out, Felix got the idea to surprise him with some of his cooking skills, so he went down to the market to get some groceries that he needed for the dish.

When he got back he found a girl sitting on the bed next to Serif, bottle in hand. At first glance he had thought it was a boy, since she had corn rows like Serif and Felix (and she was back lit by the window). But as he walked up to shake her hand he could see that she was definitely a woman. A light skinned gangster woman. It was the woman they had seen at the library that Serif liked. There was an awkward moment where they didn't know whether to shake hands or bump fists.

"Who are you?" Felix asked curiously.

"This is my home girl, Felicia," Serif interrupted her as she was about to answer. At this point it became obvious that Serif was already drunk. "She's from my hood, yah. We got some Jonnie Walker." Serif held up the bottle to show they had already drunk a quarter of it. He offered it to Felix who took a swig. Felix noticed that Felicia didn't appear drunk at all.

"Welcome to my home," Felix offered. "I'm going to cook some dinner, if you can stay."

"Sure. Thanks." Felix and Felicia were starting to really hit it off. While Felix was putting away the groceries, Serif was bragging about how gangster Felicia was and how she was a top martial artist and had kicked so many guys' asses. Felicia was a bit embarrassed, but Felix was amused at Serif's enthusiasm.

After putting away the groceries, Felix put on some music and sat down on the bed next to Serif. They got to talking and it was established that Felicia was a childhood friend who had gone to the same school as Serif. She had witnessed the bully incident that spawned Serif's gang.

Nobody said it, but Felix could tell that Serif had had a crush on Felicia since the school days. She had been the tough little tomboy that never backed down from a fight. Serif had invited her to the girl enclave of his crew, but Felicia had her own group of girls that she ran with.

As the evening progressed, Serif was the only one sipping on the Jonnie Walker. He made a couple of attempts at touching Felicia which she politely brushed off in the midst of talking. After a while Serif leaned back on the bed and passed out.

Felicia and Felix looked at each other and smiled. Felicia silently flicked her wrist, the international sign language for, "are you gay?" Felix nodded in response. He wiggled his held out palm, the international sign language for, "you're not so straight either." She just smiled.

"Let's leave this fool and get out of here," Felicia suggested out loud, checking if Serif was still partly conscious. He wasn't. "I got a party to attend," she continued. "I want you to come."

Felix got dressed up in the all camouflage outfit and followed Felicia down the street. It had turned dark, but Felix felt strangely safe with Felicia. He almost got the feeling that he was a gang member himself and that if anything happened, Felicia and he would deal with it together. It was a strange bond.

"So do you have a street name?" Felix asked.

"Since I was little, people just call me Fee, cause if you want me to beat someone up, you have to pay the fee."

"Get out! People call me Fee, too!" Felix admitted excitedly. "Serif has no idea that you're…"

"No. Nobody knows. Only me and my girls. We have a secret crew of honeys from the hood. You'll meet them all tonight."

They got to a house where Felix could hear muffled music coming from inside. Felicia knocked on the front door and was asked for a password, which she uttered. They were let in and Felicia quickly explained that Felix was with her, much to the door woman's surprise.

Immediately inside the front door lay a stair case that led down to a dark basement where the music suddenly became incredibly loud. It was so dark, Felix couldn't see anything at first, but it smelled like sweat and women's beauty products. There was a pulsating mass of dancing women occupying the entire space of the basement, with a lit up DJ booth on one side of the room.

Felicia led him by the hand through the room while being greeted and hugged by her home girls. She introduced Felix to each and every one of them, but the music was so loud that Felix couldn't hear their names. Instead he just nodded his head and bumped fists with them.

It was an interesting collection of girls, Felix thought. Yes, he had met lesbians before, but not closet gangster lesbians. The pressure in the air let Felix know that this was indeed a gang, not just a ghetto girls club.

Felicia was rather light skinned, but the girls of this crew came in all shades. Some of them were dressed like B-boys, others more girly with their hair and nails done up. Most of the girls he would have never suspected were lesbian had he passed them on the street.

Felicia led Felix through the room until they arrived at a big refrigerator that turned out to be full of beer and coolers. She handed him a beer and ushered him forward to a girl standing beside the fridge. "This is Felicity," she yelled in Felix ear, putting her arm around the girl. "My best friend. She is also called Fee."

Felix nodded to the girl, who gave him a drunken smile. She was wearing some snug jean overalls with one suspender hanging down to show her left nipple through a tight white top, something Felix understood must be irresistible to the other girls.

Felicity noticed Felix looking at the nipple and gave him another drunken smile. Felix shook his head and motioned that it was a mistake. Felicity just nodded her head as if to say, "no, it was not a mistake." Embarrassed, Felix just started sipping his beer.

Suddenly Felicia turned up at his side with a man. He was taller than Felix and wore baggy pants that hung below his butt. Felix knew that it was common for rap enthusiasts to hang their pants way too low, but the combination of the pants, the facial expression, and the fact that he was wearing his cap sideways, told Felix that this boy was gay.

"I brought you something. My brother." Felicia yelled into Felix ear.

"No, really. You shouldn't have," Felix yelled back over the music, casting a glance at Felicia's gay brother who had begun to gyrate his hips to the music. "I wasn't… hungry."

"Sure," Felicia laughed in his ear. "You must be ravenous after hanging out with Serif." She slapped Felix ass to drive home the point. It was true. Felix was horny as hell and the ass slap had made his butt tingle. Plus, it was impolite to refuse someone's brother after they had brought you to an exclusive gangster party. He nodded for the brother to follow him upstairs. Felicia looked satisfied as they made their way through the crowd towards the stairs.

"Meet me in the room upstairs," Felix said to the brother. "I have to use the wash room." Felix searched his way through the crowded main floor until he found the bathroom where he peed. Then he found the stairs to the top floor of the house, which lay in darkness.

Never having been in the house before, he wasn't sure exactly which room he had meant for the brother to wait in, so he tried a door at random. It was dark and Felix fumbled for the light switch on the wall.

Suddenly a hand grabbed Felix before he could locate the switch. It was a small woman's hand, which guided him towards a left breast with a protruding nipple. Felix knew immediately which one. Felix began to politely protest but before he knew it, Felicity was kissing him with the tongue, at which he could say nothing but mumbles.

The light came on. "Fee! What are you doing? This is my score!" the brother was lisping. Felix spun around at hearing his name, but the brother was crossing his arms and looking mad at Felicity, who wiped her mouth and disappeared.

"Look," Felix said holding his hands up in defense. "I thought this was a lesbian party…" The brother wouldn't hear it and stormed downstairs, presumably to alert his sister.

Felix remained in the room for a minute, confused and covering his mouth at what had just happened. After a while he went downstairs, passing the crowded main floor and making his way to the dark, vibrating basement. He went to the fridge to grab another beer, not sure what had happened to the last one.

Looking around he saw Felicia at the turn tables by the DJ. She waved him over and he pushed his way through girls to get to the front of the show. Felicia motioned for him to get behind the table with her and the DJ, which he did after some subdued negotiation to the contrary.

The DJ, a woman with dreads and gold teeth, grabbed Felix hand and put it on the record, causing it to stop spinning with a scratching sound. The DJ motioned for him to continue.

Felix began slowly moving his hands back and forth, scratching on the record. He soon got into it and sped up the motion of his hand. It turned out he was a natural at this and the crowd responded with cheers.

Felix got so into it that he started wiggling his hips in tune with the scratching, which drew laughter. Egged on by the crowd, Felix walked around to the front of the table and continued scratching, this time wiggling his whole butt with the sound of the fiky-fiky-foh of the record.

The crowd went nuts and several of the girls spanked his ass as he was wiggling it to the scratching. Felix turned around as he was working the music to find Felicia's brother glaring at him with crossed arms and a look of stern disappointment.


	10. Chapter 10

MX Blind Imagination

MX10 – Sex Bed

When Felix made it home from the party, Serif was still passed out with his legs hanging over the edge of the bed. Felix undressed and crawled under the covers anyway, not minding Serif since it was a big bed and there was enough room for Serif to sleep like a puppy at Felix feet.

Serif got up to use the washroom in the early morning. He his time doing some graffiti art on Felix sketch book until Felix finally woke up. Neither of them mentioned Felicia or the fact that Felix had snuck out to attend her party.

To ease the tension, Felix suggested that they attend a televised New Year's event down at the hostel, which was a sort of tradition for Felix since he didn't have any family. Serif wasn't sure, but he agreed after Felix promised there would be lots of hot white chicks there.

It was cold outside, so they dressed warm. Not in the hip hop attire they had been sporting recently, but in Felix clothes, so they would fit in better with the crowd down at the hostel. Serif wore his own jeans, a tight t-shirt he borrowed from Felix (it was tight on him, anyway), a knitted sweater, also tight, with Felix grey scarf wrapped around his neck with some style. Felix wore his usual clothes, a tweed jacket, tight jeans and the black hip hop cap to cover his corn rows.

They headed out and walked down streets in the afternoon winter sun. There was silence between them as they walked, which was normal, but Felix could tell that Serif held a quiet excitement for the evening. He was about to enter an environment that he was alien to and Felix knew how much he liked white girls.

They arrived at the hostel, a run down, over painted with turquoise old two story wooden house that must have been built in the 50's. They stood outside for a minute beholding the house. It was sagging on one side and the roof looked as if though it was ready to cave in here and there. There was a balcony on the second floor with a white painted railing that didn't look safe at all.

They walked in and were greeted by the hostel attendant who was standing in an office booth. The price for a bed was crazy low. Since it was Serif's first time in the hostel, he asked the attendant if he couldn't give them the tour. He could.

"So this is the main floor," the attendant said after they walked into the house. The main floor was just one big room, no walls, dotted with supporting, retrofitted steel pillars. The entire main floor was taken up by single beds with tattered blankets on them, all of which were empty at this early point in the evening. They continued deeper into the house.

"This is the kitchen," the attendant motioned as they peered into a little kitchen with a counter, a sink spotted with white paint, two hotplates, some cupboards and a table where three white girls were sitting, dressed in the alternative style. One of them wore a grey toque and smiled broadly at Serif, who smiled back before looking at Felix with a pleased expression.

They continued the tour. "This is the bathroom." It consisted of a fractured sink, also with white paint spots on it. It was the old style with one cold and one warm faucet. There was also a white spotted toilet that the attendant instructed them to flush with a bucket that was to be filled from a stand-alone bathtub, this one spotted with many different colours (no curtain).

They walked down into a dank basement where a large, old television box stood in one corner. In front of it, couches and cushions had been arranged for the comfort of the hostel guests. It was a large room, but Felix was surprised every year at how many people it could hold once the show started.

Upstairs was another bathroom, painted in bright white, and another room full of beds. One of the beds was large and had three pillows on it, one big pillow with two smaller pillows on either side. "This is the sex bed," the geeky attendant explained. "Anyone who sleeps on it has to have sex."

"How many people will it fit?" Felix asked in a dramatic voice, more for Serif's amusement.

"As many as you can. This bed was hand crafted in the 1800's from oak. It won't squeak or break or do anything weird." The attendant nodded with a geeky smile. "This is the balcony, but try to stay off it, since it's not safe."

As they walked back downstairs, Felix noticed a white wooden door that the attendant simply didn't explain. The tour was over. Both Serif and Felix had to use the bathroom with its cumbersome flushing system. After that they headed downstairs and hung out on the couches in the basement.

The night progressed, and little by little, the basement would fill up with chatty young people. Eventually the show was set to start and the room hushed down. It was the same show every year, only new bands and performers. Felix wasn't there for the show as much as he was there for the house itself. There was just something he loved about it being so run down, yet full of life and warmth.

He had taken into the hostel for the first time during his street days after randomly finding a hundred dollar bill. It had been the same attendant then, only much younger, and he had mentioned the New Year's event, which Felix had attended the following year after feeling lonely, not having a family to celebrate with.

After the show had been on for some time, Serif whispered to Felix that he needed the bathroom again and stood up, heading up to the main floor. Felix noticed that the alternative girl in the grey toque stood up and went upstairs right after him, seemingly chasing him.

He continued watching the show, but soon felt the need smoke a joint, so he headed up to the second floor in hopes that there was nobody on the balcony, since he didn't want it to collapse under the weight of too many people.

Once upstairs he noticed two skater boys sitting on the sex bed, involved in a serious discussion.

"Did you tell her anything?" One of them said.

"Yeah, and she bought it," the other replied.

"He claims that the spies are not government issue, but corporate…" Felix tried to ignore them and just opened the balcony door, letting in some cold air. The skaters looked at him suspiciously and walked off, to Felix great relief.

He stepped out on the balcony, closed the door behind him and sparked up the joint, puffing on it slowly. He looked not out into the darkness, but into the warmth of the room and the sex bed, through the glass panes of the balcony door (the paint was chipping on it).

The glass panes were old and distorted the view inside. Just as the weed was kicking in, Felix witnessed Serif sitting down on the sex bed, followed by the alternative girl.

They began kissing, Serif gripping her head with his big hands. They paused briefly and she giggled, which Felix could hear muffled through the glass. Serif removed her toque and began caressing her blonde hair until she was blushing and they began dirty kissing (with the lips gracing all over each other's faces).

The kissing soon evolved into the removal of each other's clothes and heavy petting and caressing. Before Felix had finished the joint, the girl was laying on her stomach, moaning under Serif's pressure. Felix found himself aroused at seeing Serif in action with the girl.

The sex act extended for some time and Felix was forced to light another joint, which he had been meaning to save for Serif, in order not to succumb to the cold. After a while they were finished and dressed in an awkward silence that ended with some reassuring kissing before heading downstairs.

Felix entered quickly to get out of the cold. After smoking two joints in a row he was way too high, so he just sat down on the sex bed for a while, leaning on the wall.

Suddenly a woman appeared in front of the bed and offered him some left over macaroni and cheese with tomato in it. It was a butch lesbian with short black hair. There was a fork stuck in the pot and the macaroni was cold, but Felix had the munchies, so he finished the whole thing.

He left the pot sitting on the bed and walked out of the room. He found the unexplained white wooden door and opened it. There were stairs leading up and Felix opened another door to find that it just lead out to the roof, which looked extremely unsafe.

He quickly closed the door to shut out the cold and turned around to notice that the walls of the staircase were covered in spiders. He hated spiders and hurried out of there.

Once out of the staircase he saw a line-up for the white painted bathroom and asked the last girl in line what the line-up was for.

"It's because you can't look in the mirror when you brush your teeth," she responded. Felix somehow understood what this all meant and simply headed downstairs.

At the bottom of the stairs Felix saw a boy that looked almost exactly like him. Same tweed jacket, same tight jeans. The boy even had the same hip hop cap on as Felix.

Felix held up one hand. They boy responded with the same gesture. Felix waved the hand and the boy also waved his hand. "Mirror," Felix said to the boy, but the boy shrugged his shoulders and held out his hands to sign that he didn't understand English. Felix continued on.

He wanted to lay down to sleep, so he began inspecting the beds. He checked the pillow of one bed to make sure there were no bed bugs, which was likely in a place like this. There was an almost empty toilet paper roll lying on the bed.

Just when he realized the bed must be occupied, he noticed a young man in a worn out business suit standing by the bed. "Is this your bed?" Felix asked. They young man nodded, but started to walk away. "Oh, no. It's ok. You can have it," Felix pleaded with him. The man still didn't take possession of the bed.

Felix went downstairs to the basement that at this point was steaming with aspiration and sweat from all the people. He found Serif sitting next to the alternative girl and sat down next to them just in time for the new year to ring in and everyone stood up cheering, all this to Felix great confusion.

He remained sitting on the floor, looking up to find Serif and the alternative girl kissing again. The room emptied slowly, leaving only Serif, the girl and Felix sitting on the floor. He looked down at Felix and said something self-confident. He could tell that Felix was out of it and wanted to put him to bed.

They staggered around the house looking for a bed for Felix, the girl and Serif propping him up between them. But there were no beds. Even the sex bed was occupied by three people that were heavily engaged.

The attendant informed them that he had lost count when all the people were checking in. The hostel was over booked. Did they want their money back? Serif said it was ok since they all had had a really good time. He could keep the money and they would be back next year.

Serif kissed the girl good night. She was to sleep in one of the single beds with one of her friends. Felix didn't remember the walk home, but Serif got him safely into his own bed in the end.


	11. Chapter 11

MX Blind Imagination

MX11 – Last Night Ever

Felix awoke naked in his bed, still heavy from all of last nights weed. He stretched under the covers, only to notice a wet spot. He checked it with his hand and sighed. He had had a wet dream. Thinking about it, he could recall exactly what it was about.

He looked down at the couch where Serif stirred awake, noticing that he froze for a second, then exclaimed, "daaamnit," before looking up to see if Felix had heard him.

"What's up?" Felix asked.

"Um… I had an accident." It was obvious that Serif was ashamed about it.

"Me too," Felix confessed.

"For real, dog?" They fact that they had both had wet dreams made it less embarrassing.

"What did you dream about?" Felix asked. "That white girl from last night?"

"How do you know about that?" Felix just gave him a knowing smile and a slow nod. "No. I was dreaming I was doing it with Felicia. What about you?"

"Oh… nothing. I … can't remember," Felix lied. "Shit. Now we have to wash the blankets," he changed the subject.

They got up and Serif took off his clothes. They looked at each other, but at this point they were comfortable being naked together. They put the blankets and the slimy clothes in the washer and started the machine. Felix drew a bath.

While he was in the tub, he heard Serif putting on the same instrumental hip hop he had been listening to when he had first practiced on his own, that night before Serif had taken him to the club. Felix bobbed his head to the beat as Serif started free-styling to the music.

"It's the ficky-ficky-Fee, Felix dog and me, hanging at on New Years, at a party." Serif was adept at making lyrics.

Felix got out of the tub and couldn't resist spitting his own rhyme. "I never get to shag. Life is a drag. Have so little sex, people call me a fag."

Serif looked impressed and went on, "Let me tell you sir, she likes it right thur, right on location, right in between the fir!"

Felix was getting hyped up by Serif. "Just woke up. Feeling like a softie. Way to early. Back the truck off me. Somebody hand me a large black coffee!" They broke out in laughter about how perfect the rhyme was.

While Felix was drying off, Serif emptied the water and drew a bath for himself, music pumping while he bathed. During Serif's bath, Felix fried up two omelettes that they ate with bread and tea.

Over breakfast Serif mentioned that he needed to go to the barber and get his corn rows redone. They were coming loose and it looked ghetto. Felix admitted that he thought he was done with his own corn rows. They had been nice, but he was tired of them. Serif suggested that he get dread locks, an idea which Felix liked.

Walking up Younge Street, they passed a tattoo shop. Felix suggested that they get tattoos. He knew just which one to get. They both got the same one, a H&amp;K G28 sniper rifle. Serif wondered why Felix was so excited about the G28, but Felix didn't explain, promising that he would tell him the whole story later that night.

Getting out of the tattoo parlour, they ran right into Felicia and Felicity. "What's up, homies!" Felicia exclaimed. Serif immediately remembered the wet dream he had had and Felicia noticed that he was acting weird.

Felicity was giving Felix and alluring smile while looking him up and down. "Y'all got some tats?" she asked Felix. He responded by loosening his jacket and producing his shoulder where the G28 was located. She touched the reddening spot gently with her fingers. "Does it hurt?"

"Yeah Felix?" Serif said and poked the same spot. "Does it hurt? Does it hurt?" He poked the spot repeatedly. Felix slightly parted his lips under the pain. Yes, it hurt, but it was a kind of pain he liked. Both Felicia and Felicity noticed that this was turning into something erotic for Felix. Serif was the only one that didn't have a clue.

"Where you going?" Felicia asked Serif to get him to stop.

"Yo, we gettin' our hair done." The girls giggled at how gay this came out sounding. "What?"

"Oh. Why don't you take Felicity with you?" Felicia suggested, nudging her best friend, who gave her a confused look. "You guys need to hang out more, right?" Felicia gave her friend a stern but assuring nod.

Felicity looked at Felix and gave him a briefly raised eye brow. "Sure." Felix gaped at Felicia, almost in horror, but Felicia flicked her eyes at Serif. Felix closed his mouth. He understood.

"Alright, we'll take her with us." He put his arm around Felicity, to her pleasure. They left Felicia snickering and continued walking up the street until they got to the barber shop.

Once in the shop, the barbers set to work on them. Felicity wasn't sure what to do in a male barbershop, but Felix insisted that she get corn rows, like her best friend. Serif just got his corn rows redone, while Felix got dread locks.

During the process of getting beautiful, which was painful to all of them, the barbers chatted with each other about some political issue, while the three friends listened. After about an hour, they were all done and came out of the shop with sore scalps.

"You look great, Felix," Serif said and started messing with Felix dreads. He was touching them, not knowing that Felix loves it when guys touch his hair, which was sending tingles down his spine. Felicity noticed this and smirked quietly to herself while looking away. Eventually Felix had to break it off, telling Serif to quit playing around, since all he could think of was how Serif had caressed that alternative girl's hair, and he was starting to blush, too.

To play it off, Felicity grabbed Serif's arm and begged them to take her to the island. They agreed and walked down to the ferry.

On the island, Felix hung back and just watched Serif and Felicity as they walked arm in arm like a couple in love, her head resting on his shoulder. It looked like they were falling in love. Or maybe this was just how Serif was working his game. He wasn't sure.

There weren't too many people on the island and Felix had a lot of time to think as he trailed behind the couple down the path. He had a big decision to make.

He needed support for his next mission, and right now, Serif was the only one he trusted enough to take with him. He could request support from the agency, but they would just send some stiff neck, which would make it boring, especially since they needed to hold for 8 hours on the location before taking action (if his plan was to work).

No, he would rather spend those 8 hours with Serif, in the event that that would be his last 8 hours, should something go wrong. But at the same time there was something innocent about Serif that he didn't want to ruin.

Yes, Serif always bragged about being a gangster, but Felix could see through the charade. He could see that deep down, Serif was just a happy guy that loved girls, a lot. He must have seen his share of violence growing up, but nothing like what Felix was about to do in two days. He still couldn't decide.

They walked around the island until it got dark and they could see the beautiful city skyline, glittering with light and dominated by the blinking CN tower. It was time to go home.

Back at the apartment they got to drinking. Felix still needed to think, so he only had a few sips of the Hennessey. He looked at the two as they were chatting drunkenly, but he wasn't listening, as his thoughts were elsewhere.

Seeing him with Felicity, he realized that he had been a fool. It was true that he loved Serif, and he had been from the start. Although Serif exhibited some obvious signs of a latent sexuality, he would never be fully ready to come out as gay.

It was the warmth of the brotherhood they had formed that said it. A straight gangster would have been alarmed at finding out that Felix was gay and ended the friendship quickly, possibly with violence, or at least a rude comment. But Serif had said nothing.

Saying nothing is weird, too, of course, but at least it meant that he was ok with it. Being ok with it is not the same as being gay, still, but it wasn't just that.

The way he touched Felix dread locks, the way he continuously poked Felix tattoo, causing him pain, even though he must have seen that Felix was getting pleasure from it, the way he had stood naked in his loft and rapping for him, the way they had wrestled in a ring of candles (and who comes up with an idea like that, anyway), this, and many more things, told Felix that there was a gay gangster somewhere in there, but it would never be ready to come out.

Yes. He would bring him on the mission. Serif had given him so much, Felix thought, it was reaching the point of being selfish. He had to give something back. He had given him close friendship and love that even though it wasn't returned, was still very real. But most of all he had accepted him, broken as he was. By taking him on the mission, he would repay all of that in one quick fell of the sword.

He snapped out of his thoughts as Serif began unstrapping Felicity's clothes and touching her. "Here we go again," Felix said under his breath and stood up to leave the loft, giving them some privacy. Serif might as well have this last night of wild gangster love. It may well be his last night ever.

After an hour, Felix returned to the apartment, kicked Felicity out and told Serif the plan.


	12. Chapter 12

MX Blind Imagination

MX12 – Mission Time

Felix and Serif were sitting in the back of a van. It was an older model with a white interior, rust spots here and there, and a ruffled sheet metal floor. There was nothing in the van, except some pillows to sit on, a couple of blankets, a box with snacks in it and a bucket with a lid they could urinate in. There was a red light in the ceiling which barely lit up the inside of the van. Separating the back and the front was a black curtain, to keep the light from being seen from outside.

They were dressed warm as it was cold outside. Their breath was visible. Serif was visibly nervous and kept shifting as he sat diagonally across from Felix. Felix was nervous too. It wasn't his first mission, but he was nervous for Serif. Serif was about to do something very serious and Felix was wondering how he would hold up, how it would change him.

He knew Serif only did it because he was a good friend, not because of the money, even though Felix had promised him a good chunk of the take (which was a lot). After several hours of pure silence, Felix decided to strike up a conversation to put Serif at ease.

"So how was last night? Did you score with Felicity?" Felix asked.

"Yeah," Serif smiled, but Felix knew him well enough to know that it was a nervous smile. Normally he would brag about something like this and go on about it.

"So? What did you do?" Felix pressed on in a second attempt.

"Oh, you know. The usual."

"You're nervous, aren't you?" Serif nodded and wiped his face. "Don't be nervous. Once the adrenaline kicks in, you'll just follow the plan." This was more of a suggestion on Felix part. The truth was, once there was adrenaline, nobody could predict how they would react. Some followed the plan, others freaked out or froze, or ran.

Serif was still nervous, so it was time for plan B. He opened the box of goodies and took out a pack of Riccola that he threw at Serif, who caught it with good reflexes.

"It's cool," Serif said. "My throat is fine." He threw the bag back at Felix, who also caught it in the air. Felix threw it right back.

"No, you idiot. It's not for your throat. Just take some."

"Why?"

"Read the fine print at the bottom of the bag."

Serif searched all the print on the bag until he found it. "'Don't take more than five per day,'" he read, then looked up at Felix and shrugged. "So what?"

"Don't you get it?" Felix burst out chuckling. "If you take more than five, you get high!" Serif furrowed his eyebrows. "Trust me," Felix went on. "Just take six of them right now and chew them."

Serif sighed and opened the Riccola bag. He carefully unwrapped the throat medicine, one by one, putting them in his mouth and chewing, until he had eaten six.

Satisfied, Felix ate six Riccola of his own. They sat for about five minutes and waited for it to kick in. "I can feel it," Serif finally said. He nodded and became visibly relaxed. "It's a good buzz. This thing could become huge in the ghetto. If I had known about this, I could have saved tons of money that I spent on weed."

"I know, right!" Felix agreed. "Learned it while I was on the street. You have to do what you have to do to make it through the day, you know?" Serif nodded in agreement.

They were silent for a bit more. "What's the worst thing you've done?" Serif asked. It had all been sudden. For a month or so they had just been buddies, then last night, Felix had revealed his true identity, his real job. But the Riccola was doing its job. Felix could tell Serif wasn't nervous any more. This was just curiosity.

"I'd have to say this, what we're about to do." Felix looked down on the van floor. "Our mark is a teacher. For some reason I feel bad about a teacher. It's the world's most important profession, you know?"

Serif just looked at Felix. "I mean their all bad," Felix went on. "I don't know anything about these people. They could be good, upstanding citizens for all I know. But they are a threat to somebody, so the agency sends me these jobs. I really just do it for the money. What? You think I paid for that loft with art?"

Serif laughed. He knew Felix was a great artist.

"So what's the worst thing you've done?" Felix asked and pointed at Serif for emphasis. Serif just went silent and buried his face in his hands for a minute. When he finally removed his hands, Felix could see that his eyes were glossy. Serif was about to speak, but he choked up for a second. He regained his voice and spoke.

"I didn't do nothing…" Serif said and grimaced as if he was about to cry. "I did nothing." Felix was quiet and just listened. He wanted to go over to Serif and put an arm around him to comfort him as he was telling the story, but the Riccola had made him numb. He wondered how Serif was able to produce tears. Must be something really horrible.

"See this tattoo," Serif said, hiking up his sleeve to reveal the tattoo of a cross with a flaming heart. "I told you I got this in jail, but I never told you why I became Christian." He sniffled. "It's because I saw this guy get raped." He gathered his composure.

"I knew the guy. We weren't friends, but I had seen him before on the streets. When I was fresh in jail, I heard this guy screaming. I went to look, cause he was screaming weird. Never heard a guy scream like that before. It wasn't a fight or nothing."

"When I got to the room, I saw four guys holding him down on the floor. He had his overalls pulled down and a guy was on him. The guy kind of turned his head and I could tell he recognized me. Without saying a word, he asked me with his face if I could help him. The other guys were just staring at me, like there was nothing I could do, just me against those five guys." By now Serif had calmed his breathing, but he choked up one last time.

"There was nothing I could do, right?" He shook his head as the last tears rolled down his cheek. "So the Christian prisoner found out and he thought all this meant that I was a good guy, so he read me two stories from the bible."

"In one story, this guy lives in Sodom, the ancient city. Two angels come to visit him, and the villagers gather around the house, demanding that he send the angels out to them so they could rape them. He told me most people think this story is about God hating gays, but it's really about rape."

"I don't know how, but somehow the angels slipped out the back or something and got away. The second story is exactly the same. A man is passing by a town. He finds a house to crash for the night, but the villagers gather outside and demand that the visitor comes out so they can rape him."

"Instead, they send out the guy's wife. The villagers rape her all night until she is almost dead. The guy is so devastated that he cuts her in 12 pieces and scatter the pieces in all the 12 provinces as a statement, 'Look what happens in this town.' It was crazy." Serif shook his head, totally calm now. "It's Genesis 19 and Judges 19. You can look it up."

"Thing is, when I saw the guy again, he was hanging with the gay prisoners. He wasn't gay before. I never got that. What's up with that? You're gay. Can you tell me why that happened?"

Felix raised his eyebrows and thought. He was high, but he had to say something. "There are all kinds of gay people," he finally let out. "But just because you've been raped doesn't automatically mean you're gay."

"A lot of people who are raped chose to live as gays, but it's not a valid gay test. The same way, a lot of people lose their gay virginity when they are on drugs or too drunk to remember. This is also not a valid test, but a lot of those people think they are gay. You need to be sober and loving for it to be valid."

"Other people think they might be gay and flirt a lot with gay people, but they never have sex. Whether these people are really gay or not is just up to them to decide. It could be either way, but I think you need to be in love with someone for it to be valid."

They were silent again. "I've been raped," Felix confessed.

"You have? By who?" Serif asked.

"The police," Felix let out. "I was gay before it happened, though. Been gay since I was little."

"How did the police rape you?"

"Was hanging in a coffee shop and someone put something weird in my coffee when I wasn't looking. Made me go psycho and agro. Aggressive, that is, not agricultural." He laughed at his own joke, but Serif didn't think it was funny.

"Once the cops came, they cuffed me and put me in an ambulance. One of the cops jumped in the ambulance with me. The paramedic injected me with something that made me fall asleep, so I don't know who the cop was or exactly what he did to me, but when I woke up in the cell at the mental hospital, my butt hurt."

"At the time I didn't think of it. It wasn't until three days later, when I was with some friends at a restaurant, that I realized that my butt hurt because the cop had raped me. I looked it up on the internet. Apparently it has happened to a lot of people. They call it 'merciful rape,' since you are not awake to remember the trauma."

"The trauma comes from not knowing who raped you or exactly what happened. I never told anyone this story except you. Not even my sister. She would have gone mad and tried to do something about it."

They sat in silence once again. Suddenly Felix watch started beeping. "We're going into mission time," He announced.


	13. Chapter 13

MX Blind Imagination

MX13 – I Love You

They both looked at each other as Felix watch was beeping. He turned it off and huffed a couple of quick breaths before opening the side door of the van and letting in the morning sunlight. The air was cold and his breath showed as he was deeply inhaling and exhaling, focused on the task he was about to perform. Felix grabbed a bundle of cloth wrapped around a long object and stepped out of the van. He nodded at Serif and closed the door.

Serif opened the black curtain leading to the front and hopped into the driver seat. His breathing was shallow and his hands were shaking a bit as he put them on the crane controls. He looked around. A few people were crossing the parking lot they were in, behind a restaurant back door. He turned on the walkie-talkie.

Meanwhile, Felix had jumped into the crane basket. This was a van equipped with a small crane that could be lifted into the air. It had originally been a cable van. They had bought it at a used car lot for a low price since it was way out of date. Felix turned on his own walkie-talkie and pressed the talk button.

"Ready?" he said to Serif.

"Ready!" Serif responded.

"Lift me up," Felix commanded. Serif activated the controls and the crane started lifting, ever so slowly with a loud sound. While it was lifting, Felix, who was crouched down in the basket, unwrapped the bundle which contained his H&amp;K G28 sniper rifle. It was fitted with large optics. He inserted the magazine and chambered a round.

Finally the crane was at full extension. Felix stood up and took aim. He was looking over the restaurant into a three story school building for adults who wanted to finish taking their high school credits. He knew which window to look in already and immediately found the English as a second language teacher he had been assigned to terminate, standing in front of the white board, teaching her first class of the day, her last class ever.

Through the optical sight, he could see her face well. She was speaking, enunciating well and wagging her finger as she spoke. She momentarily looked up at Felix, then froze in horror. Felix squeezed off a round. The sound of the shot echoed on the school building wall.

Felix emptied his clip, firing once into every window on the same floor as he had just fired into, breaking all the windows and causing all the teachers and students to take cover under their desks. Once the magazine was empty, he ducked back down into the basket. Just in case of any trouble, he released the magazine and inserted another fresh one, immediately chambering the first round.

"Go, go, go," he said softly into the walkie-talkie, causing Serif to start the engine and swerve out of the parking lot onto the street, crane still extended. As he drove at high speed, he lowered the crane, ever so slowly. It took the full length of the block to retract the crane completely.

At the end of the block, he pulled over. Felix jumped down from the basket, rifle under the cloth, and they both calmly got into another car and drove away at normal speed.

Serif looked at Felix as he drove around a corner. They washed out onto the main street where traffic flowed normally during the early rush hour. They blended in and disappeared.

They got back to Felix loft. Felix could tell Serif was calm and composed, but something had changed in him. He had been ruined. Felix had been afraid that this would happen, but what had he expected, really. He walked over to the closet where he took out a small knap sac.

"This is your half," he said and gave the knap sac to Serif. Serif opened it to check. "You can get your own place now. It's best if we are not seen together for a while. Remember to lay low, ok?" Serif nodded, stood up and left Felix alone in the loft.

It was quiet. Felix went to the computer to turn on some instrumental hip hop.

The End

Alternative Ending 1

"Go, go, go!" Felix yelled into the walkie-talkie after he had crouched down in the basket. Serif turned the ignition, but the engine wouldn't start. He tried a couple of times more. Finally the van started and he swerved out of the parking lot, lowering the crane as they were driving down the street. At the end of the block he could see a police cruiser come towards them.

"Hold on. Beast," he said into the walkie-talkie. The police officer who was driving made eye contact with him as they passed each other on the quiet street. "I think it's cool," Serif said, then, suddenly, the sirens went on and the cruiser turned around to follow them.

Without needing a cue, Felix, who was still in the basket, stood up and began firing into the windshield of the cruiser.

Serif sped down to the end of the block where he pulled over and they got into the secondary transport. Serif looked at Felix as he turned the corner. "Shit!" he said and slammed both hands on the steering wheel. "Shit! Shit! Shit!"

As they pulled onto the main street, they got stuck in morning traffic. They crept slowly down the street, stopping every five metres. Serif was nervous and mumbling to himself.

Back at the apartment, Felix quickly gave Serif the knap sac full of money. Serif vowed to Felix that he was never going to do this type of shit ever again. That was fine. Serif walked out and the two friends never saw each other again.

The End

Alternative Ending 2

"Go, go, go!" Felix screamed into the walkie-talkie after firing the last shot and ducking into the basket. He inserted another clip into the G28 and listened to Serif trying to start the van. It wouldn't start. Serif tried a few more times before announcing that the van was dead. It had been too cold during the night. "Damn!" Felix said loudly to himself and jumped out of the basket, landing on the roof of the van, his rifle covered by the cloth.

Serif stepped out of the van. "Grab the Hawk!" Felix commanded, causing Serif to lean into the car and grabbing a heavy duffle bag. Felix jumped down from the van roof and they hurried across the parking lot, into an alley where they walked briskly, looking behind them as they walked.

Ahead of them, at the mouth of the alley, a police cruiser turned in. They stopped. The cruiser stopped. They turned around, but the way behind them was blocked by another cruiser. Felix looked at Serif, who nodded that he understood.

Serif opened the duffle bag and pulled out a Hawk MM1 40mm semi-automatic grenade launcher with a rotating drum magazine. It was vintage, but it would do the job. At the same time Felix uncovered his G28 rifle and immediately opened fire on the far cruiser, the one at the mouth of the alley.

Serif lifted up the heavy Hawk and fired a grenade at the close cruiser. It exploded in a ball of fire. Direct hit to the engine block. All the windows facing the alley shattered. There was a secondary explosion as the gas tank caught fire.

Perfect silence. The two friends looked at each other and smiled. They kept walking down the alley at normal walking speed, guns in hand.

Then they could hear sirens bearing down on their position from all directions. This would be trouble. Both exits to the alley were blocked. A SWAT truck pulled up at one side and they could see them exiting and fanning out.

A battle ensued. Several police cruisers and the SWAT truck was hit by the grenades in fiery explosions. A helicopter arrived with a megaphone that told them to put down their weapons, or lethal force would be used.

Serif attempted to fire a grenade at the helicopter, but he was empty. Felix put his hand on the barrel of the grenade launcher to lower it. "It's over," he said softly. He kneeled down and put his hands behind his head.

Serif remained standing, pacing back and forth. Felix just looked at him. "I'm sorry about this," he said to Serif as he stood there on his knees. "I think we were set up. They came here too fast. The agency must have burned me. I'm sorry for taking you with me." Serif was swearing loudly and punching the air.

"Get down on the ground!" the helicopter demanded. Serif looked up.

"What ever!" he yelled at them. A sniper responded by firing close to Serif's feet.

"Please!" Felix shrieked. "Get on your knees." Serif got down in front of Felix and put his hands behind his head. The SWAT team was closing in on both sides, but they still had some time.

"What do we do now?" Serif asked Felix. "I can't go back in."

"It's ok," Felix said calmly. "I love you." Serif looked at him. He calmed down. The SWAT team got to them and ordered them to put their faces to the ground, arms and legs out.

"I love you too," Serif said as they lay there. It was over.

The End


End file.
